(Untitled)

[an_evening_star]

The star opens her eyes.

Okay, so that's not precisely true.

To be entirely honest, the star does not so much open her eyes as flutter them in a rather useless manner. Though, really, she has aspirations of opening them, so it really should count

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[tristranthorn]

Unfortunately - or perhaps, fortunately - for Yvaine, Tristran is still slumped on the other side of her, caught between the world of unconsciousness and dreaming.

He doesn't make a sound or any sort of movement.

[an_evening_star]

She shifts slightly, letting out a discontented, uncomfortable groan as something rough and decidedly unpleasant scrapes along the insides of her wrists - and then, rather immediately, hissing as the noise ricochets around in her skull.

Gods, she wants to go back to sleep. It was quiet there.

And she hadn't been conscious enough to notice the rather horrid crick in her neck either.

Ugh.

[tristranthorn]

For long moments, there is still no sign of life from the body tied to the star, but then Tristran starts to twitch a bit.

He is uncomfortable after all, and that fact is only becoming more apparent with each passing second.

Ugh, indeed.

[an_evening_star]

She tips her head back against what is very likely his shoulder and far less likely a breathing pillow (because pillows, generally speaking, do not breathe - and they tend to not be quite so pointy) and the action is far less successful in cracking her neck than she would particularly like.

It probably doesn't help that everything bloody swirls again.

At some point thereafter, there is a quiet, rather miserable whimper of, "Ow, fuck."